when we finally kiss goodnight (how i'll hate going out in the storm)
by difranxo
Summary: FP spreads some Christmas cheer in the Cooper household.


It was past midnight when he pulls up in front of her house.

"You're a stupid man, FP," he chuckles despite his nerves, which has now reached a boiling point.

He's breathing heavily and his palms are sweating against the grip he has on the steering wheel. It doesn't take much thinking to do something stupid, that much he knows. But when he turned the ignition off and gripped the parcel that lay on the passenger seat, there's no doubt his brain had upped and imploded itself halfway through the drive over here.

He's not quite sure why he's doing this at all in the first place. It's been years and it's not as if he was known for being in the habit of playing Santa. Unless you could count the Serpent's toys for tots tradition, this is simply out of his character. Maybe it's that damn Christmas spirit people always talked about.

He regrets not treating himself to a nice drink before going out and making a complete fool of himself. But he reckons that would have ended in disaster. It would have helped, though. He would at least have something to blame for his stupidity and maybe if he drank enough, he won't even remember a thing in the morning.

But it was too late now.

He sighed and stepped out of the truck. For a while, he simply stood there, staring at the unlit house, letting snow pile up on his shoulders. It wasn't until a cold breeze had burst him out of his bubble before he finally walked towards her front porch and knocked on the door. He waited and listened for the sound of footsteps.

This is stupid, he thinks. What would he say? What if her daughter opened the door? Or worse, Hal.

 _Abort mission_.

He was about halfway out of the front lines when he heard the door swing open.

"So what's the ghost of Christmas past doing here?"

Even when she's whispering, her voice still has that edge sharp enough to make every single hair on his body stand at attention. He could already imagine her eyebrow raising and her hand finding its home on her hip.

He turned around just as she closed the door behind her.

"Alice."

She smirks. "And here I thought you were gonna chicken out, FP."

"How'd you know it was me?" He stepped towards her, close enough to smell cookies and the hint of her perfume.

"As I recall, you never knew how to be quiet."

"Can't say it was all my fault."

She threw her head back and laughed. He could tell she remembers exactly how it all went down. No pun intended.

He noticed that they do this sometimes, this little game that they play. It's a kind of tug and war, except he doesn't know the rules, or if there are any rules at all. All he knows is that one day, they're ripping each other's throats out over their children and the Serpents, and then the next, they're poking fun as if they were old pals catching up over coffee. As if their time together back in the day didn't end in pain and loathing.

He admits he never really knows at which end of the spectrum he'll expect her to come out of but in the rare times that they do run into each other's circles, he can't say he doesn't enjoy them nonetheless.

She's wearing a silk, pink robe and she has her hair up. It's her Northside look, the one she created to make herself invincible. He's not sure if he likes it but he knows that snakes don't shed their skin so easily. He knows that underneath the full-body armor of smart mouth remarks and acid side-eye stares, that the Alice he knows full and well is still there. The one who likes strawberry milkshakes on Sundays and denies ever crying to _Dirty Dancing._

"What are you staring at?"

She has her head cocked on one side, as if she's trying to play innocent. She knew exactly what he was staring at.

"Uhhh… nothing," he squirms, trying to evade her inquisitive eyes. "I brought you this."

He hands her the package. It's wrapped in red with little snowman head polka dots. Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned it over in her hands, as if it were an alien contraption. Although her head is cast downwards, he can make out a ghost of a smile on her face.

She's still toying with the present and he can tell she doesn't really know what to do. In her defense, if she decided to come out in the middle of the night to surprise him with a gift after two decades of staunch avoidance, he would probably be dumbstruck, too.

She looked up at him in confusion and maybe even tenderness. She can feel tears welling up in her eyes. It's just that it's been so long. She doesn't know what to do. She wants to say something. She doesn't know why she can't.

To her relief, he reached up and steadied her fidgeting hands.

"Open it."

"Right," she lets out a shaky laugh, embarrassed to be caught in such a state. Not much leaves her tongue-tied, after all.

He watched as she neatly opened the gift, finding the spots where he had not so neatly taped up. Her hands are still trembling and it doesn't help that the only light that's keeping them from the dark is the lamp post out on the street.

"You know, normal people just rip them open."

"You sound like my mo-," she stops midway through her sentence when she realizes what he'd given her, what she's holding in her hand. Her eyes are as wide as the moon above them and if he didn't know any better, a tear rolled down her cheek.

He thought it be best not to mention it.

Her fingertips are tracing the leather jacket now, smoothing it over, until they rested upon the big Serpent "S" on the back.

"Where'd you find this?"

"You left it…" _when you left me_ , he wanted to say. "Here."

He helped her slip into the jacket and watched in admiration as she twirled around with a wide smile plastered on her face. It was an interesting sight. Alice Cooper, renowned Northsider, prancing in her pink robe and Southside Serpent jacket.

"Still fits."

"What'd you expect, asshole?"

He laughed and stared at her. After all these years, she's still the same.

"You're beautiful."

Her smile disappeared and he instantly regretted what he had just said.

She stared at him with an expression he can't read. It's the same look he received back at Pop's when he made the mistake of not so subtly telling her to leave her husband. It's the kind of stare that never fails to leave him helpless because he doesn't know what it means.

Before he knows it, her arm snaked around his neck as her lips collided with his. It was slow and soft. She nipped at his lower lip and he opened his mouth to invite her in. She moaned when their tongues finally met. She tastes like sugar and wine.

Despite their past and mutual antagonism towards each other, he can't deny that he never stopped caring. And he might say the same about her. The way she's kissing him with such passion and urgency was a testament to that. She might be good at lying through her teeth but her body can't fool him. It never could, if memory served him right.

Her hand buried itself into his hair, tugging softly, finding just the right angle to kiss him deeper, while the other caressed his cheek. He can't help but sense the longing she's projecting towards him. He's not sure if she even knows. His arms found its place around her waist and he pulled her even closer towards him as if there were any distance left to erase between them.

She's warm against his body, could feel their heartbeats syncing together, and for a moment, he remembers all those late nights they snuck out to camp in the woods. He remembers lying next to her on the back of his truck, staring at the constellations above them. Her head lying on his chest, their hands entertwined. Two forces to be reckoned with. They could've have taken over the world.

He was never the romantic type but with her, it was as if he had turned into mush. He suddenly found himself making sandwiches for picnics and writing her love poems.

She pulled out of the kiss, breathless, but stays in the security of his arms. He's too lightheaded to notice the sudden cold creeping back into his body.

She's staring at him, trying to memorize the way his eyes sparkle when they're looking at her, the way she sees her reflection in them. She could get lost in those eyes forever and never come back.

"Merry Christmas, FP," she purrs against his cheek.

And with that last encore, she heads back inside her house with a smile directed at him before finally closing the door.

"Merry Christmas, Alice."


End file.
